


Unsteady

by Ayusaurus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Comfort, Established Relationship, Hanzo helps him out, M/M, Mccree has a panic attack, Mentions of Violence, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayusaurus/pseuds/Ayusaurus
Summary: A hoarse, strangled noise came out. His vocal chords failed him.“May I sit next to you?” The voice sounded so far away. He nodded.In which Mccree has a panic attack and Hanzo comes to help him work through it and comfort him.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 15
Kudos: 167





	Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic in a long while, but I wanted to give back to the writing community that I've had the pleasure of reading from for years now. Unbeta'd so please go easy on me. Any and all comments and kudos are appreciated!

Unsteady. Head swimming. Trembling hands with a finger on the trigger. Nerves frayed on edge. Haggared breathing. Over stimulation was a bitch. 

it was the state Mccree found himself as he sat against the craggy cliff, watching waves roll and crash against the rocks below him. Each wave rolling in like the thoughts that slammed against the walls of his own consciousness. Red from the sunset bleeding into his memory, pooling around his feet. Mistakes, regrets, missed shots, and heart heavy bullets. Seconds of time that played like a full theatrical feature. Visceral reactions unearthed before him. He didn’t have enough to dull the low buzz in his ears. The static trying to tune between each station in his memory bank. 

_“Gunslinger.”_

He took a quivering breath. removed his finger from the trigger and wrenched his gun into his lap. Metal of his hand clinking against the barrel of his gun, methodically turning the chamber like a dial on the radio to try and ease his mind to a station that would accommodate a sense of ease. The butt of his cigarillo worn down and frayed as he tried sucking in more smoke, finding that the end had gone out. 

He cursed.

Hyperfixation wouldn’t let him grab his lighter from his pocket.

Mccree had been tuned into the white noise around him that when he felt the light warmth on his shoulder, he nearly chucked his gun. His back tensed, muscles in his body clenched and loaded, ready to snap and fire at the first shot he could take. 

_“Mccree.”_

A hoarse, strangled noise came out. His vocal chords failed him. 

“May I sit next to you?” The voice sounded so far away. He nodded.

The figure lowered himself to sit by Mccree. 

Fuck fuck fuck.... No. No. Please, n-no.

The pressure of the hand on his shoulder more solid, offering a place for his mind to anchor to, “It is okay. I am here, Jesse.”

Mccree couldn’t manage anything but a nod. He clicked the barrel faster. Round after round. Body after body. Red still along the edges of his vision as his own sense of feeling tried to focus solely on the hand on his shoulder. 

“Jesse, your breath is shallow. Bring your focus to your breathing, slowly.” The voice sounded more grounded, less like the radio in his head. 

He listened. 

The first breath he took in felt like punching through the wall in his lungs. He gasped. 

“Slowly, Jesse. Breathe in for three seconds for me.” The hand soothed over his shoulder, “Very good. Breath with the movement of my hand, Jesse.”

The feeling running along his shoulders forced his brain to focus. Allowed his lungs to ease open. Cool, salty air filtered into his chest, soothing the lightning crackling against nerves. Red dissipating with each breath he drew in. The warmth sliding over him from the hand offering support acting like an override for his own actions. The channels stopped flicking by so quickly. His hands eventually settling to where he could leave the gun alone. 

“You’re doing very well, Jesse. Easy now. Your breathing is getting better. You are safe, I am with you.” 

Safe. He was safe. He was at the Watchpoint. He was planted on the side of the cliff and looking over the straight. The sound of the waves drawing his mental landscape back to Gibraltar. The warmth on his shoulders had moved to his back. The sun was beyond the horizon, his vision recognizing a now, lavender sky. The hand and voice pulling him back belonged to Hanzo. 

“That’s it, Jesse. You are here. You are safe.” Hanzo palmed along his shoulder blade, “May I take your hand?”

“Y-Yeah....” Mccree’s voice barely audible above the wave’s dull roar below them. 

The warmth that settled over his hand as Hanzo took it in his was like a balm. Jesse was thankful for the moment of silence between them. Allowed himself to gain his bearings once again. His muscles slacked on the exhale of his breath, his mind worn down like a horse that had just run a marathon. He swallowed and let his body lean against the solid weight of Hanzo. With a squeeze from the archer’s hand, it eased the remaining nerves that weakly fought like a defiant teenager trying to get the last word in.

It was a while before either one talked. Hanzo took care in letting the hand that was on Jesse’s back sooth over the worn muscles. The gunslinger’s head slumped down as his hat shielded most of his face. His voice was hoarse, “Been a while since I’ve been wound up like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” If Hanzo was looking at him, he made no motion to show it. 

Mccree nodded, “Followed a rabbit too far down the hole. Heard a seagull and it sounded like a scream.”

“Hmmm.” Hanzo’s hum was one of empathy, “Moments such as those can be unpredictable.”

Mccree’s shoulders shivered, “Felt like I was flipping between radio stations for hours. Dunno how long it really was.”

“I had come up to grab you for dinner only a small while ago. Reinhardt was finishing up his spread for the evening.” 

“Not sure if I’m in the mood to eat and be around others right now. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink on you, do you?” 

Hanzo let out a small huff of a laugh. “If by drink you mean sake, then yes.”

“Anything’s fine, darlin. I just need somethin’.” 

Mccree took sharp breath in as Hanzo’s hand slipped from his, replaced moments later with the tap of the ouroboros gourd. He sat up slightly, tipping his hat in thanks before taking a fair swig of the liquid which burned against his throat, warmth cascading down into his stomach. “Better than dry mouth at least.”

“I have had my fair share of dry mouth after a panic attack. Those nights are quite... rough.” Mccree felt Hanzo adjust his posture.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Nothing like a burn to bring you back to here n’ now. Appreciate it nonetheless, Hanzo.” His voice had gained a bit more strength. 

Mccree nursed the gourd, occasionally handing it back to Hanzo. They weren’t full drinks, moreso just a slight bite to keep his mind from returning to the radio, anchoring his mind instead on the archer sitting next to him. Now that his mind was lessened with anxiety, he had realized Hanzo wasn’t dressed in his usual _hakama,_ but rather swapped for a tank top and sweatpants. He appreciated the sight of the dragons sprawling down the archer’s arm. They seemed to devour the lingering thoughts at the edges of his mind. 

“You’re not cold, are you? The breeze is kinda cool for this time of year.”

“This is nothing. I would often train outside in the winter with my usual _hakama._ ” Hanzo laughed, “I would, as you’d say, ‘Freeze a tit off.’“

Mccree’s breathy laugh left him with a grin. “That’d sure be a sight to see. Last time I was in Hanamura was during Blackwatch. Colors in the fall were real pretty. Didn’t know that you guys had maple trees there too; only ever hear about the cherry blossoms.”

The archer hummed, “Indeed. _Hanami_ viewing is beautiful, but the turning of the leaves in fall are just as much a breathtaking sight. Seeing the red maple leaves against the backdrop of Mt. Fuji is something I wish to see again.”

The two settled into easy conversation of landscapes that caused them to marvel, a break from the chaos that the omnic crisis had left in it’s wake. Hanzo talked about how he saw flowers budding and winding around rusted omnics, reminded him that even in destruction, life can manifest itself once again. Mccree spoke of the sprawling western backdrop, sandy red plateaus cut by canyons with sparkling riverbeds that reflected the blue of the vast sky, accented by vibrant green and spring colors from the native flora. They both agreed that the cities were charming in their own ways, but the freedom that came with nature was a second home that called to them both. It was a simple peace that offered them a respite, untainted by their bloody deeds that kept them running. 

It was fuel for a future for which they could try to aim for in exchange for amending the wrongs of the past. 

“Never saw the salt flats in Bolivia,” Mccree took another sip from the gourd before handing it back to the archer, his tone carrying it’s usual lightheartedness. 

Hanzo took the gourd and set it down on the other side of him, there was no need to finish it’s contents tonight. “Then it is somewhere that we should plan to see. I think you would enjoy being surrounded by a seemingly endless sky which does not have the boundary of the horizon. It is humbling.”

“That so?” Mccree let his hand slide over Peacekeeper before taking out his lighter and breathing life to the cigarillo once more. 

He took a deep drag, vanilla-bourbon rolling over his mouth before exhaling. He turned to look at Hanzo, noticing the light smile on the archer’s lips. It was enough to cause a smile to spread along his own. “Thank you, Hanzo.”

“We are partners, Jesse. You would do the same for me.” Mccree felt his face warm at that comment. 

His head tilted, “I reckon you’re right on the mark with that, archer.” 

“Of course I am - I do not miss, gunslinger.” They both shared a knowing and thankful look. “Now, I would suggest us to go inside. I’m sure we can continue this conversation over a light meal over rice and miso. My treat.”

Mccree placed a hand over his heart as he stood and helped Hanzo up on his feet. “Keep on shooting arrows at my heart like that sweetheart, and you’re liable to go to jail for killing a man.” 

“If that is so,” Hanzo laced his fingers with Mccree’s, “then I have killed you more times than I have hands to count on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ayumi_chan46) and [Tumblr!](http://tumblr.com/ayusaurus)


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